The Forever Family
by seatbeltdrivein
Summary: After two hundred years, he'd hoped the homunculus would have grown tired of the hunt. No such luck. Pre-manga.


_Set pre-manga series, roughly the 1600s in the early days of Amestris._

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There were four walls around him, a roof and the ground, and everything was closing in on him, his little friend in the flask's idea of a practical joke. The space around him shrunk, the once large room drawing in and down, and Hohenheim knew that it was only a matter of time before it crushed him into nothing. Of course, he'd survive, he always survived, but it would hurt. The pain on its own was a nuisance.

After two hundred years, he'd hoped the homunculus would have grown tired of the hunt. No such luck.

The ceiling was brushing the top of his hair. Hohenheim held out his hands and pressed them to the wall as they grew closer. "You haven't changed," he observed.

"I should think not," came the offended reply. "You don't look so different, either."

Screams filtered in through the thick earthen walls. "I've gathered an audience, have I?"

"You always were too conspicuous for your own good." The homunculus seemed amused. "As I've told you before."

The wall pushed his hands back until his elbows bent at his sides and his hands were braced on the wall barely a few millimeters from his chest. Hohenheim had to bend his legs the more the ceiling pushed down on him. "You're hardly one to talk."

The homunculus ignored the last comment. "Is it getting cramped? You can come out. All you have to do is ask."

Cramped wasn't the word for it. Hohenheim felt like he was being compacted, could feel the pressure building and building and _building. _

"It's a little tight," he said after a moment, purely for the monster's benefit. "What's your grievance with me today, Homunculus?"

"I have no grievance," it said gleefully. "I only wanted to spend time with my dear father. That is what you are."

Father, Creator, birthplace of that sin. Hohenheim was all of those things, and he was prepared to take responsibility. "This isn't what I imagined having children would be like," he muttered into the wall pressed tight to his face. Every breath drew in a mouthful of dirt. He was nearly on his knees, crunched down into an awkward, painful position. The walls shifted again, just a small movement, but it was enough to push his arm hard enough that blood rushed to the surface, just pooling under his skin. Hohenheim felt the change in his body and closed his eyes.

The worst part about the whole thing was that he knew just how it would go. He held a mental catalogue of every possible change his body could go through, of how it would feel and what the end result would be like.

"I have clearly been alive too long," he spoke into the wall.

The homunculus must have gotten bored, because the walls halted their slow movements for a moment, leaving Hohenheim stuck in that tiny square between the walls and ceiling with a momentary panic that it might leave him there, trapped. He needn't have worried, though, because the walls picked up at ten times the pace in the next moment, crunching down until he was left as nothing but a pulverized mess between slabs of alchemically formed stone.

It was the strangest sensation, having awareness without having a body—definitely not a pleasant feeling. When the walls fell away, Hohenheim dripped onto the floor and congealed into something man-shaped enough for the Stone to fix him again. While his body assembled on the ground, pieces rushing together like a puzzle, Hohenheim watched Homunculus' face, the monster standing amidst a crowd of screaming, terrified people.

His body came together as good as new. Hohenheim picked himself up off the ground and dusted the dirt off his knees. "Do you feel better now that you've gotten that out of your system?" he asked.

It smiled at him, the movement of its face as disturbing as watching his reflection in the mirror come to life. Hohenheim would never get used to it. "I don't know what you mean," it said, amused.

From the crowd arose a whisper of monsters. The people scattered at the sight of the two of them. Hohenheim watched them in his peripheral, wishing dearly that he could run as well.

"I've come to make you an offer," Homunculus said.

"I'm certain I'll turn it down," Hohenheim replied. "But feel free to try."

The monster with his face scowled. "Join me, Hohenheim," it said. "Together, we can make this world our own. I always meant for you to be with me."

It considered him family still? How oddly sweet. "I'm afraid my answer hasn't changed," Hohenheim said. "I'll have to decline."

The homunculus didn't look surprised. It didn't really look anything but bored. "That's too bad," it said. "I would have enjoyed the company."

"I'm sincerely sorry," Hohenheim said, sounding not sorry at all.

"Then I'll let you take your leave," it said, waving dismissively. "But understand this, Hohenheim. There will come a time when you will join me or die. Nothing will stand against me."

As the homunculus disappeared into the shadows, leaving him alone in the middle of a panicking village, Hohenheim let out an incredulous laugh.

It wasn't the family he wanted. When Hohenheim shared his dream of a family with the little creature in the flask, he'd envisioned a beautiful woman, a son, maybe two. He'd imagined happiness, a warm place to call his own. In the face of his reality, that dream had shattered, leaving him with a monster for a child and a life that went on forever. He hoped that in time, things might change.

For now, though, he would content himself with waiting.


End file.
